The King's Queen
by CraftyLion
Summary: She didn't want to go; it was wrong and Atem would be angry if he found out... but the extended hand was dazzling in the moonlight, its dancing fingers tempting and tormenting her. A rewrite of a previous story
1. The Engagement

**Author's Note: Here's to starting the new year on a good note! As mentioned, this is a rewrite of a former story. As a forewarning to those of you who read the first one, the main character's name was changed as well as a few others. **

* * *

The sun filtered through the crack in the curtain, leaving a golden line on the floor of the chariot between the feet of its two inhabitants. On one side, a girl sat with her head bowed over her lap. The heavily jeweled hood of her cloak hid her face as she watched her fingers entwine. Across from her, her sister stared at the expensive trappings of their ride, from the rich fabric of the curtains to the jewels around the small window. She shook her head in wonder, causing her hood to fall off her free flowing hair. She tucked some of the black strands behind her ear.

"You're going to be the queen of Egypt, Rashida! The queen!"

Rashida lifted her head to look at her sister from under the edge of her hood. Her lips, which had been pressed together in nervousness, relaxed and she smiled. "So I will be," she concurred.

"You'll get to go everywhere in this. Think of how regal you'll look."

"That will mean nothing to me unless Atem is as good a husband as he is a Pharaoh."

"Of course he will be. When was the last time we saw him, five or six years ago? He was kind then, wasn't he?"

"Aria, that was years ago. That was before his father died, before he had the whole of Egypt resting on his shoulders. Ra knows how that's changed him."

Aria saw something akin to fear in Rashida's face. Feeling sympathy, she leaned forward and grasped her sister's hands in her own. "It will be okay," she said, rubbing her thumb along the life line of Rashida's palm. "Even if Atem has become different, you're a strong woman with an endearing personality. You'll be able to soften him and make him love you, and if you can't, I know you'll be able to endure any hardness. But I think you fear nothing but a made up shadow."

The girls felt the chariot stop and were startled by the explosion of sun in the small area when the door opened. A servant appeared and bowed low to them. "The royal palace, my ladies," he said when he rose. "His Majesty awaits your presence with your mother and father in the throne room." He proffered a hand to help them down.

When both had stepped onto the stone groundwork, he bowed once more and beckoned for them to follow him. Behind them, the golden Great Door closed with a deadened thud. Rashida felt fear and excitement growing in her chest with every step that brought them closer to the long awaited meeting. When they stood in front of the entrance to the throne room, the servant turned to them.

"When you are ready, my ladies."

Aria tucked a few stray strands of Rashida's hair back into the bun behind her head, and in turn, Rashida ran her fingers through Aria's hair, laying it over her shoulders. Pleased with her sister's appearance, she took a deep breath, clasped her hands in front of her, and nodded for the door to be opened. The separation of the two halves seemed to take forever. When they stood on either side of the doorframe, the girls walked in, Aria following after Rashida. Their black hair reflected the candlelight as they walked. Their identical blue eyes were fixed on the figure at the end of the hall; the man sitting on the throne. As they drew closer, he stood and both girls gasped as they beheld their pharaoh up close. Around his wrists and upper arms were bands of gold, shining out against his tanned skin. His white tunic draped attractively by his knees and from the waist to the hem hung another piece of fabric of light blue shade. His ankles were wrapped in matching gold bands. He wore a dark blue cloak that provided a nice backdrop for his body. His tri-colored hair framed his face, which looked down on them kindly.

When the two had reached his feet, they curtsied and held their position until he had stepped in front of them and told them to rise. He regarded first Aria and then Rashida in almost a curious manner. He gave the younger of the two a kiss on the forehead and took Rashida's hands, kissing them lightly.

"You may greet your parents," he said, motioning to the two people on the left side of his throne. Rashida breathed a sigh of relief when she saw her mother; that ever soothing presence made her relax. She checked the urge to run to her mother; she walked at a stately pace, but her face must have shown her true desires because Ankhta laughed and opened her arms to embrace her daughters.

"How was your journey?" she asked after Rashida had detangled herself.

"It was fine, thank you mother. I'm glad to see you again."

"And you. But these past two weeks of discussions have led to good results. Go see His Majesty; he has been very anxious to meet you again."

With an encouraging push, Rashida returned to where Atem stood. His warm smile eased her discomfort and she returned it easily. After giving her another caress across her fingers, he brought her to the huddle of individuals standing on the right side of his throne. He introduced them as his priests and priestesses, and each one made an obeisance to her. The high priestess, Isis, flashed the girl the smallest look of friendliness before moving back to her position.

When the last priest had bowed, Atem faced Rashida again. "Was the carriage to your liking?" he asked. "I made sure to send my best one for you."

"It was comfortable, thank you, Your Majesty. I think my sister enjoyed it as well."

Atem laughed. "That's good. It will be yours for whatever you wish. Consider it one of my wedding gifts to you." At the mention the wedding, he became serious again. "As I said to your father, I want to apologize for making you wait so long for your marriage. It certainly wasn't fair to you to make you wait on my indecisiveness. In truth, it should have happened years ago, but…"

Rashida nodded in understanding. "It wasn't trouble for me at all, I promise you. It gave me a few more years to be with my parents and my siblings, which I appreciate. I thank you for choosing me in the end."

"I wouldn't have chosen anyone else, Rashida. You were always meant to be my wife. It's what my father wanted when he lived and it's what I've always wanted. If it weren't for the matters of the country, you would have been already. But enough! You have traveled long and must be hungry. Come, I've laid a dinner out in honor of your arrival." He held out an arm and she touched it lightly with her fingers and the two of them led a procession from the room.

It was a small affair that took place in the pharaoh's private dining chamber. That was to be expected; it was, after all, only the engagement, not the wedding itself. The ruler sat at the head of the table, straight-backed, but relaxed in the small replica of his throne. He had wrapped his dark blue cloak around his shoulders, despite the blazing fire in the room, and it rustled slightly as he moved his hands in time with the music. A jovial smile played on his lips.

"Do you remember when you used to come here as a child, Rashida?"

Beside him, the girl replaced the goblet on the table. A servant came up behind her and filled it again. "I remember it well, Your Majesty," she said, smiling at the memory. "I remember that we had a set up all to ourselves too. You sat at the head, like your father did at the larger table, and the rest of us sat around you. But, as I recall, you weren't very good at keeping your subjects in check." She laughed as she reminisced about the time when her siblings had wandered from the table that Atem had ruled over, despite his command to sit.

"I've become better at that," Atem retorted, pretending to be miffed by his failed ruling at the table. "As _I_ recall, you sat at my right hand then as well."

Rashida lowered her eyes and they fell into a comfortable silence.

Atem turned his attention to the other people in the room. On his left sat his aunt and uncle, engaged in a whispered conversation. He watched them curiously until he decided it was better to let them have their privacy. As he looked around the room, he found himself caught by the piercing gaze of his younger cousin, Aria. He was unnerved, feeling like her eyes were sharp units of blue ice, stabbing into his soul. He returned her stare until he couldn't handle it anymore. When he glanced in her direction again, Aria was speaking with one of the priestesses. When she noticed his interest in her, she gave him a respectful nod of the head. Atem thought that perhaps the moment had only been in his imagination. His scrutiny of the dining hall continued until it returned to the girl sitting on his right. He was pleasantly surprised to see her staring back. The blue of her eyes was much warmer and sparkled happily. When they met, the girl looked down, as if ashamed to be caught gaping at him. Despite the demure show, he caught a hint of a smile. He leaned over, placing his hand on the table near where hers rested.

"How are you feeling, Rashida?"

"I'm well, Your Majesty. I was just admiring your-!" She bit her lip and lowered her gaze again. The coloring on her cheeks this time was more than just the makeup that had been applied hours before.

The pharaoh chuckled. It was light and airy, and seemed to echo off of the ceiling. It sent a wave of cheer into Rashida's heart and she felt herself grinning again, the way a child would with a new toy. She raised her eyes again to find him looking at her, amused.

"What do you find so funny, Your Majesty?" she asked

He snaked a hand out to stroke her cheek gently. He opened his mouth to respond but, after furtively glancing around the room, he motioned for her to come closer. Rashida pressed her lips together in a small smirk and stared at him for a further second, as if considering whether to obey. But who was she to disregard the Pharaoh of Egypt? She pushing herself out of her seat and kneeled by his feet at his bidding, lifting her face to see his.

Leaning over her, he declared, "Rashida, you and I are to be married in two months' time. I know we haven't seen each other as often as we perhaps should have, but know that you should be comfortable saying whatever you like to me." He grabbed her hands that she had unknowingly placed on his lap and kissed her forehead. "You shall have a power over me that no other woman ever will and anything you have to say will be appreciated or forgiven. Now… what was it you were going to say before?"

"Anything, Your Majesty?"

"Anything. And to you, I am Atem. There's no need for formalities between us."

Rashida repeated his name a few times and with the name came a feeling of familiarity from years before. A change seemed to come over her, transforming her from a meek girl sitting in front of the pharaoh to a young woman sharing secrets with an old friend. She reached out and touched the fabric of his cloak, which had fallen off his shoulder, exposing his arm. The gold band glistened in the candlelight.

"Well, Your… Atem… I had been admiring your face, to be honest. I don't think I've seen a man's face so handsome before. It is as though the gods came and personally molded you. Your clothes are very well fitted on your body and any woman would swoon at you as soon as look at you. And I was watching the muscles in your arms while you moved your hands and I wondered what they would look like if you were doing… other things." Her eyes shone with a mischievous light and she stroked his arm down to his fingertips. Atem raised his eyebrows in surprise. He grasped her dancing fingers and pulled them close to his mouth, lightly grazing them with his lips.

"My dear cousin," he started. Rashida thought his voice sounded a little husky. "My dear cousin, perhaps we should move the wedding to a closer date. If you keep up with comments like that, I fear you will tempt me beyond redemption."

The girl searched his eyes for a hint of humor, but Atem seemed to be completely serious. "But they would all be forgiven, isn't that what you said?"

His purple gaze regarded her warmly. "They would be very much appreciated," he whispered. She couldn't help it. A giggle escaped her lips without warning. She stood up and touched his shoulders lightly but resisted the urge to sit on his leg.

"Then why should I stop? Though perhaps I've had too much to drink tonight, and that's why I spoke so openly. Don't judge me on this evening alone, or you will think I am no better than a woman in a brothel. In the days and weeks to come, you will see me as I truly am, loving, but modest. By your leave, I will go to my rooms now. Good night, my lord."

He beckoned that she was free to go and Rashida curtsied low to him. Then she hurried to her mother and father, wishing them a good evening, before exiting the small chamber. Her sister followed her out.

* * *

"If you keep up that kind of behaviour, he'll think you're better suited for a brothel real quick." Aria slipped into the room as the servants were leaving. Rashida had been dressed in her nightgown and sat in front of the mirror, brushing her hair. She sought her sister's reflected face and the matching blue eyes found hers. Rashida gave a small shrug and smiled softly.

"You heard that? It was supposed to be a private conversation, for his and my ears alone."

Aria plucked the brush from her hand and began stroking the bristles through the thick mat of black. "Only women who are paid to love speak like that after knowing a man for a day," she returned, adamant.

"Not at all," Rashida said, unconcerned. "You'll understand when you get married too. For a good marriage, you have to keep your partner interested. What better way than to tell him your deepest thoughts when he knows he can't do anything about it? By the time our wedding comes, Atem will be pining to throw me under the sheets as soon as the ceremony is over. And I can't say I would be complaining."

Aria rolled her eyes, but despite herself, she grinned too. "That doesn't make it sound any better, you know. But I'm glad he chose you as his wife, because I don't find him all that attractive." She wrapped Rashida's hair in a braid and tied it off with a piece of cloth. The girls switched places and Rashida pulled the tool through the length of hair. "But I don't know how I feel about having to curtsy to you every time I see you."

The older sister shook her head with a smirk. "I'll make an exception for you. When people come into our presence, they will all bow, and then you and I will be the only girls standing. We'll be the two powers in the room that makes everyone else cow in awe."

Aria peeked at her sister, as if confused. "You'll be queen, but what power would I have?"

"Queen's sister, capable of making any man stop and stare. I saw that look you gave Atem at dinner." Rashida gave the girl's hair a sharp tug.

In response, the younger sibling pursed her lips and broke eye contact. "It's not my fault he was looking at me." To change the subject, she quickly added, "I would love to be queen though. I bet it's fantastic. Servants to dress you and bath you every morning, beautiful gardens to walk in, the finest food in the whole country!"

"You get that at home too, Aria."

"Yes, but not like here. You get to live in a palace, and dress in the most beautiful colors and wear the prettiest headdresses. And anything you want, you can have; all you have to do is ask our cousin. I bet Atem would travel the seas if you asked him too."

"I bet not; not if his priests have anything to say about it." Rashida tied her sister's hair together and leaned down to press their faces together. "Anyway, I asked mother to let you stay here with me, at least for the first month. You'll be able to experience a queen's life too. Let's rule this palace together, you and I, and if we like it, we'll tell Atem that we don't need him anymore. He can live with mother and father."

She left the mirror and crawled onto the bed. Aria followed her, laughing. She cuddled close to her, happy to be sleeping together again. She couldn't remember the last time the two had shared a bed and had occasionally missed the feeling of her sister's comforting company. "I will miss this when I finally go home."

Rashida rolled over and enveloped Aria in her arms, holding her tight. "So enjoy it while you can. Good night, Aria."

"Good night."

* * *

Outside the palace walls, the royal city was starting to go to sleep. Children were led to bed and candles were blown out. One by one, the houses went dark. But as they were going to sleep, one man started to wake up. A feral growl came from his throat as he felt the dregs of his slumber leave him. But he felt more than that. As he became more conscious, he understood what had woken him up in the first place.

Soft lips trailed kisses down his chest as dainty hands groped in the dark, under the sheets, searching for that one part of his body that they craved. The lips got closer to their target and he felt heat return to his lower regions. When she kissed the base of his member, he bucked his hips slightly and threw his head back onto the pillow, content to let her do her work. Occasionally he twirled some of her hair around his finger, but for the most part, he kept his hands to himself.

As she sucked and moaned softly on him, the man tried to determine what time it was. He pushed his white hair out of his eyes and turned his head to look out the window. The moon at reached its zenith and sat a little past; he guessed it to be around one. Perhaps he should have returned to camp to ensure that everyone had left at the appropriate time…

Well, it was too late for that now. He wasn't leaving now, even if he could. He glanced down at the girl briefly. Her dark hair had fallen out of the makeshift bun she had made and dragged across his skin as her head moved. It tickled him slightly and he gathered it in one hand, pushing it onto her back. Her lower end wiggled in the air as she continued her labor; he suspected she was doing that on purpose. He reached out and gave it a hearty slap, and then grabbed it, squeezing the flesh beneath his hand roughly. He was not amused with her theatrics, but Ra, could her mouth work. He felt the buildup in him ready to explode, but he held himself in check. He clenched his teeth to keep from groaning.

He had left Paru in charge of the camp that evening, much to his friend's chagrin. His face of dismay when he told Paru that he would play out his role as second-in-command, rather than go to the brothel had been pitiful.

"But Bakura!" he'd whined. "We always go to the brothel together. It's our thing. Come on; let Ameen be in charge for once." The man had shaken his head, wild mane and all, and hadn't replied. He hadn't said that Ameen was still relatively new himself; he hadn't explained that he didn't want a new thief sending new thieves on their first mission; he hadn't clarified that he just wanted to be alone tonight.

Mostly alone.

The girl had started humming as she went up and down his shaft and it finally threw him over the edge. Bakura let himself go with a hoarse grunt, squirting stream after stream into her mouth. She lapped it up like a dog. Then, with a self-satisfied smile on her face, she crawled towards the top of the bed, landing a kiss here and there, but never breaking eye contact. Bakura watched her movements through half closed eyes and let her settle next to him happily before pouncing on her.

Faster than she would have thought humanly possible, the man rolled off his back and on top of her, wrapping his legs around her waist and grasping both her wrists in one hand. With his free hand, he lifted her chin to meet his steely eyes, blazing with what seemed like rage. Suddenly fearful, she tried to curl into a ball, but found she couldn't move an inch. He lowered his head until his breath caressed her ear.

"When did I say you could do that?" he asked.

She felt a shiver run up her spine. "Y-you didn't."

"So why did you?"

The girl looked into his eyes for a second and found herself paralyzed. He looked like a beast that had found easy prey and was toying with it. A sardonic smirk cut across his features as she paused. "I-I just thought you'd… you'd like…" she trailed off.

"Oh, you thought I'd like it, huh? Or were you hoping I'd give you a little extra for it? I'll give you some extra if that's what you want." Bakura bent down and gave her shoulder a hard bite. Her shriek was muffled by his hand, which had moved to cover her mouth. He went down her body, seeming to nip her in all the sensitive places. To reach the area between her legs, he had to let go of her arms, and as soon as he did, she pushed at his head, fearing what he would do down there. He glared at her from the bottom of the bed, for all intents and purposes, looking like a cat about to attack. The moon glinted off his cold, red eyes.

"It's not so nice when you get something you don't want, is it?" he asked harshly. The girl shook her head and pulled her feet away from him. He watched her with disdain, this cowering, shivering girl, with less than an inkling of what he could really do to her if he wanted. He curled his lip and turned away; he was done with her. He motioned that she could leave and she scampered from the room without hesitation.

As her footfalls faded, Bakura sighed and resigned himself to the fact that it was time for him to go.

* * *

**A/N: So, I wanted to put this chapter up and see what people thought before I continued. Please let me know how you felt! :) **


	2. The Meeting

**Author's Note: Khonsu is the god associated with the moon. **

* * *

Bakura stalked down the moonlit alley, silent as a desert cat on a hunt. His red cloak trailed behind him like a tail. The royal city streets were eerily silent, its inhabitants having all gone to bed. The full moon was the only source of light and Bakura felt like he was walking in full sunlight. He sent a quick prayer of thanks to Khonsu; in his groggy and somewhat hung-over state, he didn't think he would have been able to make it to the stables in the dark. Then, as if someone had told a joke, he chuckled to himself. It was a low rumble that started in the base of his chest and emerged between two slightly parted pink lips. Who was he kidding? He would have been able to walk around the city blindfolded and with one arm tied behind his back.

As he approached the stable yard, the moon gleamed off of his cloak, turning it to the color of dark blood. He could hear his stallion stamp his hooves in impatience, as if he knew it was time to go and was ready to start galloping. The man brushed a large hand down the neck of the beast and gave him a solid pat on the back. The moon gleamed off his black mane when he tossed his head.

"Yeah, alright," Bakura whispered, heading to where the saddle was hanging next to the stall. "Hold onto your hooves. Now stand still while I get you fixed." Bakura threw the saddle over the horse and fastened the girdle with a tight pull. He struggled to get his mount to accept the bit, but with small shove into the horse's shoulder, he managed to slip the metal piece in without getting his fingers bitten off.

"Stupid horse," he grumbled. When the beast snorted and turned his head to stare at his master, Bakura shook his hands and laughed. "Joking," he said.

He checked the straps one last time before jumping onto the stallion's back. He pulled the reins lightly and the horse began a slow walk from the stable. The hoofs barely made a noise on the compacted dirt road. Bakura navigated through the maze of homes and empty marketplace stalls. He was just about to kick his horse into a trot when he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. Khonsu's cold white light glinted off an object on the ground near one of the stalls. Bakura looked at it curiously for a moment and then slid to the ground to see what it was. To his surprise (and absolute pleasure), he discovered a prize of a bracelet and a ring. He suspected that they had been dropped by the vendor. Wind from earlier in the day had blown sand over the jewelry, effectively hiding it from view. That is, from the view of an ordinary person. But he was not an ordinary person; he was a thief and the smallest trinket would not go unnoticed. He slipped the bracelet over his hand and added the ring to his collection. He flexed his fingers to show off his loot to the horse.

"Look what I found, boy," he said gleefully. "Maybe, if I'm feeling generous, I'll tie it into your mane later."

The beast shook his head and whinnied softly. "No, you're right," Bakura mused. "I guess that would hurt. No matter; I'll find something for you one day. Enough playing around, let's get back." He climbed onto his ride again and horse and master melted into the night.

* * *

As he neared the thieves' camp, Bakura noticed the sky beginning to lighten. He made an angry noise to himself. He had spent too much time meandering in the streets of the royal city and lost precious time. He shouldn't have stopped to pick up the jewelry either. He had been planning on slipping back into the camp before his men woke up and noticed he had been gone; that was how rumors started, and mutinies always followed rumors. He leaned forward more and pushed his beast faster. He briefly glanced back over his shoulder and, having done so, stopped his forward race and turned around. Despite his need to return to camp, Bakura could not help but admire the sunrise. Ra sent his rays before him and they reached out to the dark clouds above, softening them and creating an hombre from pale pink to dark purple. Slowly, the golden orb could be seen rising above the palace in the distance. The front of the royal house was still covered in shadows, and so contrasted greatly with the ever growing brightness behind it. Bakura stared at the palace with hard eyes. He wanted desperately to invade the Pharaoh's home at that very moment; he could have done it alone, too, but only if he snuck in quietly and left the same way. He felt a strong desire to make a big entrance, to greet the ruler of Egypt face to face, but for that, he knew he needed more materials and his men needed further training.

Bakura felt the heat of the sun on his face and knew he had missed his opportunity to return to camp unnoticed. Turning away from the morning scene, he moved at a trotting pace back to his own home. If home it could be called.

The canvas town blended easily with the surrounding sand and dirt. To the casual observer, it appeared to be a nomads' camp. It was common, especially near the royal region, for nomads to set up their tents and gather supplies from the nearby cities. For that, Bakura had thanked the gods, because it made his life easier. He didn't have to worry about finding different ways to hide his forty-odd men when they ran low on food or drink; after pitching a few tents, they amalgamated with the other tribes with little hassle.

Bakura could see five or six men walking around now, starting cook fires for breakfast and running to the river for water. He set his face into a scowl and urged his horse to where the other beasts grazed. He heard variations of 'good morning, my lord,' as he walked past. In response, he grunted but didn't look at them.

As he pulled the reins off, he caught the voice he had been looking forward to.

"Morning, sir. How was your, uh, ride?"

He turned to see a man not much older than himself standing there. The man stood with his hands behind his back; the sun bounced off of his conspicuously hairless head. He was Paru, Bakura's friend from childhood – that is, from the point when he decided to make a new life. Paru was 21 to Bakura's nineteen years, had trained the white-haired boy when he first appeared spontaneously into his life and they had grown close over the years. Paru had been there when Bakura had officially been embraced in the company, at his first major raid, and the moment when he went from a common thief to the king of thieves. His history, friendship, and unquestionable loyalty allowed him to get away with a surly expression.

"The anticipation was thrilling," Bakura replied, dumping his materials into the unsuspecting arms. "But the ride itself was less pleasing than desired, as always."

"Maybe another night," Paru returned, his eyes flashing mischievously. "Perhaps if I went with you, I could bring you good luck."

Bakura rolled his eyes at the bald man. "Not likely. How was your watch?"

"Oh, you know. The anticipation was horrible and the watch itself was more disappointing than expected." When his king gave him a pointed glare, Paru changed his tone a bit. "Nothing to report, sir. All's quiet at the home base; not even a rat invaded." He ended his report with a cheeky grin.

"And I take it they haven't returned yet?"

"…Ah."

Bakura frowned. He watched Paru fidget and shift his body away. He had taken a sudden interest in the dirt and would not catch Bakura's lavender gaze with his own dark brown eyes. The thief king stepped closer until the man in front of him was pressed against a pole that held up one corner of a tent. He pressed a hand on his chest and raised a questioning eyebrow.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he demanded, his voice like silk.

Paru swallowed the lump forming in his throat. He could feel the tips of Bakura's uncut fingernails digging into his chest. "Well, you're not gonna like it… but they are back."

"Good."

"They've been back for hours."

"What?"

Paru gave the hand on his body a pat and Bakura released him. He motioned for the king to follow him. He led the way to middle of the camp, to the king's own tent. At their appearance, the guards who had been lounging near the entrance jumped up and made their salute – a fist over their heart and a bow. They mumbled greetings to their lord before spreading the pavilion flaps open. Paru trailed after the red robe out of the hot morning sun and into the shade of the large tent.

Sitting in the middle of the floor were two men. They had matching dark hair and darkly tanned skin. They were not wearing shirts and Bakura could see stripes across their backs – whip lashes. He noted that their hands were tightly bound as he prowled in a circle around them. Finally, having had his fill of observations, he sat in front of them, crossing his ankles. He rested his hand on his right knee, his arm perpendicular to his body, and then leaned on his left forearm on the other leg. His cloak piled around him like a pool of blood. He chewed the inside of his mouth as he regarded them through the fringe of his hair. They stared back, their eyes revealing equal parts fear and shame. Their pathetic cries had quieted to a dull sniveling.

"Well?" Bakura asked. A blanket of silence fell over the tent; he couldn't even hear a sniffle. He gave them two more heartbeats to answer, but when they remained mute, he released a low growl. He brushed back the edge of his cloak coolly, showing the three leather bound hilts that peeked over the band around his waist.

"Are you going to tell me the story, or do I need to drag it out of you?" He glanced at his weapons. "I have one for each of you…" Bakura looked at the prisoners and then at Paru standing behind them. "Hang on, weren't there three of them?"

Paru nodded grimly. He stepped across the floor and grabbed the two exposed necks, lifting their heads and forcing them to look at Bakura.

"Listen here," he said harshly. "I don't punish people unless I really have to. I don't necessarily _like_ hurting people, so I went easy on you. If you don't start talkin', Bakura's gonna start punishing you too, and you can bet your pretty little faces that he won't give you a rap on the fingers."

They were trembling when Paru released his hold on them. They didn't see him give a thumbs up or the flash of Bakura's canines when he gave his second-in-command an approving smirk. They only saw the muscular arm of the thief king pull out a dagger and then they started talking.

Or tried to, at least. They were speaking at the same time, so their voices overlapped, sometimes talking too quickly, sometimes butting into each other's stories. Finally, Bakura snapped his fingers.

"Enough!" he thundered. He aimed the point of the dagger to the man on the right. "You first."

The man took a breath and restarted his tale. "They discovered us, my lord. I don't know how. Maybe they saw us, or heard something, but we had reached the second level of a very rich man's house and then he appeared in the doorway. He ran Hepi-sor through from behind. I didn't know commoners carried swords!" The prisoner's voice became very shrill. "We had some of his wife's jewels in our hands and didn't have time to hide them, so he saw. He yelled at us and started to come forward, but we pulled our blades out and threatened him. We managed to push him out into the hall and after that, we got out of there real quick, cause he had called the guards. We were just two thieves with a couple daggers; what could we do against a guard of fifteen? We got back here a few hours before sunrise."

Bakura listened to the tale with a bored expression. When the man recounted the retreat, he curled his lip in disgust. He looked at the silent one. "You," he said gruffly. "Is it true?"

"It is, my lord. Every detail of it, my lord. We tried our best but it was-!"

"Oh shut up." Bakura pushed himself to his feet and stalked behind them. Kneeling down, he draped an arm over the shoulder of each man. He leaned his head in between theirs, as if the three were pals sharing a secret. "Did all three of you go into one house?"

Both heads nodded. "And you two thought that, since you had been caught by this one man, the mission was futile and you could scamper back home? Did neither of you think to hide in an alley until the noise died down and try another house, maybe on the other side of the city? No, I don't expect you did. You thought that, with your story, you would be welcomed back here with remarks about how well you tried and maybe sympathy for your lost friend."

He turned his head from one face to the other. They both stared ahead, their jaws clenched so tight, a grain of sand couldn't have fit between their teeth. "From the looks of it, that is exactly what you thought. Well, guess what?" The voice in their ears lowered dangerously. "You couldn't have been more wrong," it purred.

Bakura lifted himself from the ground, shoving off of their bodies roughly. He positioned himself in front of them again and sneered, "Not only did you fail your trial, you failed to bring back any loot and, as a result, we're going to have to go back tonight to get anything of substantial value. You cost us another night." He stared at them, disgusted. "What kind of thieves do you call yourselves?"

The white haired man turned away. He was finished. "Take them away," he commanded. "I'll finish with them later."

The guards lifted the prisoners and quickly left the leader's tent, leaving Bakura and Paru alone.

"Did we pick them off the street yesterday? Did they learn _nothing_ in the three months?"

"Clearly not, my lord." Paru could tell when his friend was angry, and played the obedient, loyal servant, leaving his personal comments to himself. When significant amount of time had passed with not a sound, he risked asking a question.

"Would you like to scope out the city before we go tonight? We could figure out what house they raided and hear how far the news of it spread."

Bakura rubbed his face with a sigh. He had been hoping to ride away from the city at this point, and here he was, about to go right back in. "Fine," he answered bluntly. "But those two don't leave my sight, or they'll try to break away."

"Agreed, sir."

* * *

Aria woke up, much to her chagrin. The tail end of her dream, already fuzzy, dissolved in the morning sun that filtered through to her senses. She poked her head from under the quilt where she had been laying and looked around the room. Her sight landed on Rashida, sitting by the open window. The woman still wore her nightgown and covered her shoulders with a sheer white shawl. She looked at peace for the first time since the summons to the palace had arrived. A knock on the door startled both girls. Aria watched as her sister left her post at the window to open the chamber door and allowed a servant to enter. The new comer curtsied low, her brown hair falling over her face.

"Good morrow, my lady," she greeted in her airy voice. "I was chosen by His Majesty to be your personal servant. My name is Suvan and I hope to serve you better than His Majesty's own servant." Rashida smiled kindly on her.

From her place on the bed, Aria pouted. A sudden and strong feeling of dislike rose in her stomach for the girl. She roused herself and made a show of waking up, groaning loudly and yawning. She blinked blearily and started in surprise when she looked the servant in the eye, as if seeing her for the first time.

"Who are you?" she asked, her voice coming out ruder than she had meant.

"This is Suvan," Rashida answered instead, silently reprimanding Aria with a look. "She is our servant."

"Our?"

"Well, mine. But I'll share her with you, so long as you are my sister and in this palace. But enough about that. Get up, Aria, lazy bones. You've missed the sunrise."

The young girl sat up and pushed the covers off. She rather enjoyed watching Ra appear above the horizon every morning. It reminded her that a new day was beginning. Any problems from the day before were gone and new events were going to happen.

The servant girl broke into her reverie by informing Rashida that Atem had requested that they break their fast together. "There are a few more girls in the outer chamber who can help you get dressed. And my lady," she said, turning to Aria, "Madam Ankhta asked that you meet her in her chambers as soon as you were dressed."

A grimace spread across the young girl's face, causing Rashida to giggle. "I'm sure it's nothing terrible," she comforted. Aria did not look consoled.

"Enjoy your breakfast," she answered sullenly. "Tell His Majesty I said hello, and if I go missing, that he should check our mother's room first."

Rashida rolled her eyes at the dramatic display. She turned back to Suvan and motioned that she would follow her.

Atem had already started eating by the time Rashida was admitted through the doors. On one side of him stood a small man, who sported a matching set of grey hair on his head and upon his face. On his scalp sat a cylinder of blue and around his shoulders was a wrapped a scarf of the same color. He was bent over a scroll, speaking rapidly to the Pharaoh who munched his food pensively. Atem only seemed to notice her when she had reached the table, but when he did see her, he stood up hastily and bent down to land a peck on her cheek. He waited for her to be seated before returning to his own.

"That will be enough for now, Shimon. I will hear the rest at our council an hour before midday. You may leave," he told the old man. Shimon bowed low.

Atem turned to the man on his left. He wore a white tunic with brilliant gold shoulder pads that held a long white cloak in place. His headdress was of a similar design, and his jewelry was as fine as the Pharaoh's. It occurred to Rashida that she was looking at one of the high priests.

"My lord, before I leave, I wanted to inform you of an event that Vizier Shimon did not mention. There was a man who came early this morning, long before Ra had awoken, claiming that there were thieves in his house in the middle of the night. He said that they looked different and weren't any of the street rats he sees during the day. He called his personal guard on them, but they escaped. Should we look for them?"

"What does he mean by different?"

"He says that he thinks their skin was darker than normal, as if they had been in the sun since birth. But, of course, it was night time, so there is a chance he was mistaken."

"Of course. Talk to me about it further later. Thank you, Mahad." Atem's face seemed to darken and he ended the statement firmly. The priest bowed and took his leave.

Atem and Rashida sat in silence as the servant brought forth various dishes of meat and bread for her to choose from and filled two goblets with water and wine. He noted that she observed at the servants with kind eyes and gave a nod of thanks when they bowed. Her sleek hair draped over her left shoulder in a loose braid and caught the streaming sunlight like a crystal. Watching her appreciatively, Atem thought how glad he was that she was going to be his wife. Not only was she the most beautiful girl he had ever known, she also seemed to _want_ to be with him.

Only after she had taken a few bites did Rashida notice the silence in the room. She looked up to see Atem staring at her, his purples eyes soft. She gave him a tentative smile and said,

"The food is very good, Your… Atem."

"Thank you. I hunted it myself yesterday morning."

The girl raised an eyebrow in surprise. "I didn't take you for a hunter."

"Life isn't all about politics," Atem answered with a laugh. "Even a ruler is allowed to have fun sometimes.

They continued to eat in silence, neither one knowing quite what to say. Finally, as they neared the end of their meal, Atem asked her what she planned to do for the day.

"I was hoping to go into the city with my sister, if that's alright with you. We haven't been there since we visited you last and it would be nice to walk the old streets again."

"Of course! You needn't ask for my permission," Atem exclaimed. "I unfortunately have to attend councils and listen to my priests, otherwise I would join you."

"That sounds like a terrible alternative. Why don't you skip them and come with us anyway?"

"Or perhaps you would join in my trials and make it less tedious for me."

Rashida smiled wanly. "Maybe next time," she offered.

* * *

Aria stomped down the hallway in a huff. She was glad when the servant had appeared and told her that Rashida was waiting for her in the courtyard, because it gave her a chance to flee away from her mother's chamber, away from the accusations, away from the reminders of her sister's superiority.

It seemed that everyone had noticed what had been named, 'The Stare.' She hadn't minded it when Rashida mentioned it the previous night, because that had been something they laughed about a little. But from the way her mother talked about it, it sounded like Aria had_ purposely_ captured their cousin's attention. They seemed to forget that there was more than one side to the story. Why did nobody consider the reason for Atem looking around the room? She was just as pretty as Rashida, so she couldn't blame him for looking. Or maybe he was just watching everyone in the room, but they only paid attention to her interaction with him because she was a girl.

Aria was so caught up in her fuming that she didn't notice the hushed tittering of the servants until she almost walked into them.

"…ridiculous."

She recognized the voices of the servants from the bedchamber earlier that morning. She stood around the corner and listened.

"And so haughty. Did you hear her when I picked the jewelry for her? 'That's not the one I want.' 'Oh, that won't look good with the dress.' She wouldn't accept anything I pulled out, but her sister came in and pointed to a set of earrings I already offered, suddenly they looked perfect."

"Did you see the way peculiar way they made everyone back away when she was getting dressed? What was that all about?"

"I saw a massive scar on her left shoulder that went down to the top of her breast. They were trying to cover it up with the shawl."

"Ra have mercy. No wonder His Majesty made her wait as long as he did. Imagine having to marry that tragedy so soon after the death of his father."

Aria had clenched her hands into tight fists and was about to give them a few choice words when another voice cut in. It was Suvan.

"You know that's not the reason. His Majesty loves her very much and even said that he would have married her sooner if he had the chance."

"You would say that, wouldn't you, Suvan?" one of the women said viciously. "Do you connect with her because she's getting married at, what, eighteen? Nineteen? Oh, but you can't really relate, can you? You're not even married yet."

"Maybe Suvan's a long lost daughter," another woman added. "I hear late marriages run in the family. Her mother got married young enough, but her brother hasn't found a wife yet, and the little sister follows her around like a dog, even though she's only a couple of years younger."

Aria had heard enough. She stepped out of the shadows. She wore a grin on her face like a cat who had found some mice out in the open. There were four of them, including Suvan. They all jumped and varying shades of brown eyes stared at her in surprise. With pleasure, Aria watched as their mouths opened in surprise, no doubt thinking about their conversation and wondering what she had heard. She watched them fidget for a few heartbeats before adopting an innocent expression.

"I seem to have lost my way," Aria whined, sounding exasperated. "Could you direct me to the courtyard? My sister is waiting and she'll be angry if I don't hurry."

The women looked over their shoulder to the courtyard behind them. Aria clicked her tongue in annoyance. Well, now they _knew_ she heard them. That was okay. She was content to make them spend the day wondering if she would tell Rashida everything they said.

She hurried to the carriage where her sister beckoned her. As she climbed into the seat, she quickly glanced at Rashida's shoulder

"What took you so long? It's nearly midday"

Aria paused, debating whether or not to tell her sister what she had overheard. Then she remembered how nervous the woman had been on their way to the palace and how she tried to make a good impression on everyone. _'Why bother her with the meaningless remarks of some jealous servants? I'll tell her when the wedding's over, and then she can deal with them as their queen.'_

"Nothing," Aria lied. "Mother wouldn't let me leave right away. Anyway, I'm here now. Let's go!"

* * *

In the city's bustling marketplace, four men crowded around a vendor selling rope. Bakura glowered at the two in front of him who were making a poor rapport with the seller. To him, it felt like it was taking longer to get their supplies than it had to scout out the potential homes around the center of the city. He looked around the square, more to spend his time than for security. He thanked his height because it seemed like every inhabitant had turned out today and the only way to see anything was to look over all their heads. He had sent a group to each of the four corners of the city, each comprised of three of his stealthiest men, and he stood with Paru and the two failed trials in the center, resulting in a total of 16 thieves in the city. Well, fifteen of _his_ thieves and himself. When they came back for a report, he would send them back to the camp to rouse four others. They could all have a good drink or fuck, whatever their pleasure, before they started their work tonight.

Bakura clicked his tongue in annoyance when he turned around and saw that the vendor was still talking. He shoved the two men aside, vaguely aware that this was the same area he picked up that bracelet the previous night. He wondered briefly where the jewelry merchant had set himself up that day.

"Listen," he growled, blocking the sun's warm with his body. "What is your strongest rope?"

With a shaking hand, the merchant lifted up a coil. It looked to be about a finger and a half thick.

"I want all of it."

Bakura was handed five coils of the same rope and he dropped the gold coins on the wooden stand. He gave the vendor a mocking bow and turned away with his purchase. He started to walk away when he heard a commotion. At the same time, Paru tugged on his sleeve.

"Bakura, look."

A man had started running towards them, pointing and shouting. Behind him followed three more in the livery of the Palace guards. For one ridiculous moment, Bakura thought it was the jewelry merchant and he had seen the bracelet around the thief's wrist from across the square. Then he realized that the man was pointing behind them. Bakura caught Paru's eye and they both regarded the two dark-haired men with what could have been sympathy.

Bakura shrugged apologetically and said, "Tough break." With that, he tugged the hood of his red cloak further over his face and he and his second in command melted with the crowd, leaving them in full view of the approaching attack.

"There they are!" The city man sounded hysterical as he grabbed their arms in a tight hold. "These two are the ones who broke into my home last night. Look, they were about to rob some other poor soul of their wealth."

His words had the desired effect; the crowd around them stepped back, covering their pockets. Bakura and Paru stepped back with them.

"We'll take care of them." The captain of the guard took the accused roughly into their midst, chuckling darkly. "His Majesty had special orders if we ever found you two. Put them in the caravan with the others. We'll take them to the palace when the queen returns."

The two thieves watched as their mates were dragged through the dirt towards the northern part of town.

"Well, so much for them," Paru said with a sigh. "Not that they were much good anyway. But that means we're down two men now."

"Hmm." Bakura shoved his three rope coils into his satchel and turned aside to buy bread. The fresh-baked smell had been lingering in his nose for the past hour and, now that he didn't have to hawk anyone, he found he couldn't resist. He bought the two loaves with the sweetest smell and handed one to his friend.

"I guess we should go after them," he mused.

"Mmfm yrrf mhmm ha?"

He rolled his eyes and stared at Paru with a raised eyebrow and a mildly irritated expression. "Didn't your mother ever teach you not to speak with your mouth full?"

"I said," Paru answered, overly enunciating each word, "Why. Do. You. Say. That?"

"Because if Pharaoh had special orders, that means he's going to talk to them. And I highly doubt they're going to keep quiet about the band of thieves living on the outskirts of town."

"But hey, Bakura, isn't that what you wanted? For him to know you're here to wreak havoc?"

The white mane was shaken side to side, aligning all of the strands that had blown into different direction in the win. "Not yet. I want to surprise him in a much classier way than that."

Paru snorted. "Come on. I thought Pharaoh was supposed to be the one full of pomp and circumstance."

"Shut up. Speaking of which, when did he get a queen? Did you hear anything about that?"

"Nope. But I don't really listen to the latest gossip. Maybe he just wanted it to be a low key thing. She might be a poor ugly soul with a hairy lip or maybe she has big feet."

Bakura snorted. "Why would he even consider a woman like that?"

"His only choice? The only female relative within a few generations? Ra, he's nineteen. He's probably realized that he's never fucked a girl in his life and now he's getting desperate."

The thief's laughter escaped before he had a chance to cover his mouth. He gave Paru a friendly punch in the arm. "Keep your voice down, idiot. Saying that is most likely against the law."

"Yeah, I guess. Talk to me about the palace life when you're interested in going back there," Paru said, waving his hand indifferently. Then he pointed to the growing shadows. "Should we be getting back to the meeting point?"

"Might as well."

* * *

Rashida stopped short when she saw the sturdy wall in front of her. "Another dead end," she announced, mildly triumphant. "I told you it would be."

"If you could stop gloating about my mistake, maybe you could fix it."

"Hey, don't get angry at me. You were the one with the brilliant idea to watch a music show _by ourselves._"

"We've always seen it together, Rashida! It would have felt weird standing there with a couple of soldiers next to us, looking over our shoulders like birds. And if I'm the stupid one for suggesting it, you're doubly stupid for agreeing with me and getting them to let us go off together. Now we're in a portion of town that looks like it hasn't been inhabited for months and we are ridiculously lost!"

Rashida joined her sister on the step of a dilapidated house, feeling sorry for her snide comment. There was no reason for her to feel victorious; they were lost, like Aria said, and it was getting dark. She ran some fingers through the younger girl's hair comfortingly.

"It'll be alright," she said, her tone soothing and quiet. "We're not hopelessly lost; we'll get back soon. I'm sure the soldiers have started looking for us at this point too."

A scuffle in the shadows caused Rashida to jerk her head up. She peered into the dark area warily and saw the late afternoon sun reflect back at her. At the same time, three men came out of hiding. They had differing body types, from thin and lithe to heavyset, but they all had the same expression – leering and excited. Rashida jumped up and pushed Aria behind her, spreading her arms out protectively.

"Lost, are ya?" the one in the middle asked. "Lucky for us that you stumbled here. See, you startled us at first, following us down here. We thought you some soldiers coming to drag us away. Imagine our relief when we saw it was just a coupl'a mislaid girls"

Aria stepped up onto the next ledge to look over her sister's head. She felt her feet kick the entryway of the building, but she wasn't concerned about that. She could see each person in front of her and she gave them a cold stare, her blue eyes like flecks of ice. She opened her mouth to say something but suddenly the door behind her opened.

"You're late. Where've you be-?" The new voice was cut off by one girl tumbling backwards onto the floor and another diving after her. They stood up quickly and looked at this fourth party. The man was still holding the door open and stared at the three on the step in surprise. He turned to face them and raised an eyebrow. His lack of hair did not prepare them for the young face that peered back at them.

"What's this?" he asked, seeming almost bored. "If you're going to bring back something, at least make something we can all enjoy, like gold, or food."

"Who says we can't all enjoy this?"

Rashida tore her attention from the doorman and surveyed the room. There were at least twelve men there, including the three they had met outside. She noted that a group of them were huddled around a table.

Her eyes returned to the bald man when he ask, "You girls have some rich clothes on; no doubt daughters of one of these wealthy merchants. Who are you and what are you doing in this area? Didn't your parents ever teach you not to go wandering unprotected?" He gave them a grin that sent a shiver down Rashida's spine.

It didn't seem to faze Aria.

"The better question is who do you think _you_ are?" She demanded, having found her voice again. "We are daughters of royalty and she is the future queen of Egypt. How dare you even talk to us? I demand that you release us."

The man clicked his tongue in annoyance. "Quaint. But you have no jurisdiction over us. We have our own ruler. Bakura?"

Rashida heard the others shuffle around. She turned to watch as those grouped around the table shifted aside to reveal what they had been crowded around.

Standing in the midst of them was a man unlike anyone she had ever seen before. She heard herself issue a soft gasp as she took in the white mane around his head and his wolfish grin. His lavender eyes were fixed on her as her blue ones traveled across his body. He wore a blue band around his waist that held up his cream colored kilt and Rashida could see the hilt of a dagger peeking out from the top. The red cloak that hung from his shoulders draped in such a way to reveal his chest and legs. They were both muscular and toned in a way only physical labor and a hard lifestyle could produce. Absurdly, she wondered what it would feel like to drag a finger down that chest; how would he react to such a motion? Finally she reached his face and saw him staring back at her. She blushed, realizing that he had been appraising her, perhaps in the same way she had been doing to him. No, there was no question that he had been eyeing her like some trophy. He licked his lips suggestively.

"What _are_ you?" Aria's exclamation brought the two of them back to the room. Bakura scowled at her and even Rashida shot her a quick look, bothered with her blunt rudeness.

"_Who_ are you?" she asked, more gently.

He waved the question off like a fly. "So, Paru," he said, addressing the bald man. "This is the new wife we heard about earlier. Now we know why Pharaoh hasn't said anything. Why would he announce to the world that his wife looked this delicious? People would get jealous and start storming the palace."

"We haven't officially been married yet," Rashida answered, aware that the strange man hadn't really been asking a question. She wasn't entirely sure why she volunteered that information so freely, but the way he was looking at her made her feel hypnotized and she felt like she would say anything if he asked. She shook her head and dug her fingernails into her palm, trying to break whatever spell had a hold on her.

Pulling herself to her full height, Rashida pursed her lips and pierced him with her gaze. With the cold expression, she looked more like Aria and the man found himself looking at twin faces of fury.

"If it's a ransom you want," Rashida said, "His Majesty will pay whatever price you set for us. I assure you, he'll give you more if you return us _unharmed._" She put an emphasis on the final word.

The man was unmoved by her regal tone. He laughed outright, his deep voice echoing off the walls. "Not likely, princess. I don't think you understand who I am to your husband-to-be. He wouldn't give me an ounce of that gold he has stored in those rooms, not for the world. But that's okay," he shrugged nonchalantly. "I get my share regardless."

He got up from his seat and sauntered over, placing one hand on his hip when he reached them. With the other, Bakura traced Rashida's jawline. The girl clenched her teeth and he could feel her jaw working under his fingers. He heard her breath come faster out of her nose. It was subtle, but it was music to his ears; she was terrified but she was doing a very good job at hiding it.

"I'll tell you what," he finally said, clapping his hands. "I'll apologize for what my men almost did to you. They haven't entertained such high class girls in a long time. On top of that, I'll even take you wherever you need to go."

Rashida eyed him guardedly. "In exchange for…?"

He curled his lip, giving her the smallest smile of appreciation. "Your name and the date of your wedding."

"What?"

"You heard me. You already know my name." Here, he shot his partner a venomous look. Paru had the grace to look ashamed.

Rashida exchanged a confused look with Aria, who shook her head in wonder. "Why do you want to know?"

"I want to be able to give pharaoh my congratulations in person, but I know he won't invite you."

"Probably for good reason."

The man scanned the room and ran his hands through his white hair. "Probably. Well, if you won't tell me, I guess I'll have to hand you over to these guys. They've been waiting for me to say it all along, to be honest."

"No!"

He smirked at her, his fingers entangled on the back of his head. "Go on."

"My name is Rashida," the girl said dejectedly. "And this is my sis-."

"I don't care about her." Aria sniffed in disbelief.

That caused Rashida to falter. "Oh. But you wanted our names!"

Shaking his head, he reached out and grabbed her hand, kissing the back of it. "No. I wanted _your_ name and the wedding date. I got one of them so…"

"It's two months from the full moon."

"That was yesterday."

"Yes."

"Excellent." He gave her a sly wink before turned away from them and addressed the bald man again. "Paru, get that final report and then go to the brothel. I'll meet you there after taking these lovely ladies home."

Bakura beckoned for them to follow him. When he reached the door, he suddenly turned around.

"One more request," he said. He leaned in close. "Not a word about this meeting to Pharaoh, okay?"

Rashida thought about the reaction Atem would probably have if he found out that she had ditched her guard. She imagined that it would be many times worse if he discovered that she had been cause by these… men. She silently agreed to the request, unwilling to face her future husband's anger before they even got married.

* * *

**A/N: The ending may seem a bit rushed. I apologize in advance for the late posting of the next few chapters - school and such events. **

**Thanks for reading **


End file.
